You Brought Me Back
by AlltheThangs
Summary: The story of our favorite samurai. Liberties taken on the backstory, for sure. Current T rating with the capacity to change. Multi-chapter arc with endgame being Richonne. Hope you enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

**You Brought Me Back**

 **Chapter One**

 ** _***I do not own TWD or anything associated with TWD. It would not be karmically wise to sue me.***_**

 *****This will be a multi-chapter story about everyone's favorite samurai. I've taken liberties with her backstory. Sincerely hope you like it.*** **

Toussaint Robileaux was, when still alive, a professor of Art History at Morehouse. Daddy had never taught anywhere other than his alma mater and never wanted to. She chose to go to Spelman, knowing that it would please him. Though he did not live to see her graduate, she took comfort in knowing it would have made him happy.

She was the youngest of Odette and Toussaint Robileaux's four, and according to both parents, a wonderful surprise. They had planned to stop after her sister Genevieve, but as Mama was fond of saying, life made other plans.

Daddy told her in his deep Louisiana drawl, "As soon as we learned of you, we knew we didn't want a world that you weren't a part of, Peanut."

Peanut was the only thing Daddy ever called her after seeing her curled up on the ultrasound. Odette would smile wide when telling that tale, remembering how sweet and out of character it was to see her usually- stoic husband so captivated by his unborn daughter. From that day forward, she was Mama's Michonne and Daddy's Peanut.

Never for one second did she doubt that he loved her, though those were words he rarely spoke. But it lived in the warmth that was always in his eyes when they talked to each other. It was found in their mutual passion for science-fiction and the works of Akira Kurosawa. It communicated itself in their desire to emulate Martin Luther King. (Though most of the time their reactions seemed more in line with a man once called Malcolm Little)

She liked to imagine Daddy would have approved of Mike, had he met him. Mike was initially a pleasant distraction that became something more, winning her over with his pointed attentions and easy ways. His mind was as agile as hers and many a night they'd spend arguing some obscure philosophical point, only to end up making love after agreeing to disagree.

There were no plans for a kid, not at that stage of things, so the conception of her own little Peanut was also a big surprise. She had wanted a child in a few years, maybe, but not when it actually happened. Life made other plans.

Whether to keep it or not was never really a decision. She and Mike had enough love, enough time and enough money. She could also admit that there was a little ego in there, as the thought of a kid who inherited her independence, Mike's charm and both their brains held some appeal. (During a conversation with her brother Langston she shared these thoughts, only to end up pelting him with the olives they'd been snacking on when he snorted laughter and said she was just as likely to give birth to a serial killer...or a Republican)

When she saw her son on that ultrasound, she cried a little, thinking of her daddy. And there on that screen was her own little Peanut. From that time forward, she never called him anything else. She knew she didn't want a world that this tiny little person wasn't going to be a part of.

She let Mike name him Andre, since to her he'd always be Peanut. After his arrival, everything seemed complete in a way it hadn't been before. She took Peanut to the playground and to the High. They were a progressive family, consuming fine wines, modern art and sengoku-jidai dramas in equal measure. It was idyllic. If there was anything more to want, she didn't know it.

But life made other plans.

The ZA hit, and the world as everyone knew it turned upside down. Nothing was recognizable anymore, including Mike. The man she loved became a sullen, bleak shell of himself that weighed more heavily around her neck than the sling she used to carry Peanut. She worried about it...but was more worried about keeping them all alive in this nightmare landscape.

This would come back to haunt her bitterly, after.

At night, when she would make the silly faces that made Peanut giggle and bask in his cheery good nature, somehow not really affected by all of this, she knew two things beyond a shadow of a doubt.

The first was that even if she had to do it all on her own, she would do whatever it took to carve a future out of this hell for her son.

The second was that even now, beset by threats from all sides, she would never want to be in any world that her little Peanut wasn't a part of.

 **To Be Continued**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 *****I don't own TWD or any of its associated stuff and thangs.*****

She'd often eyed the sword in the window of the curio shop, but couldn't justify purchasing it, especially after Peanut was on the way. It had always called out to her when she walked past but she had learned to ignore its voice. Now, all things considered, it definitely seemed like the solution to a very pressing problem.

"Why are we risking this, Michonne?" Mike asked her angrily, for once willing to carry Peanut since she needed her arms free to wield the shovel she currently had slung over her shoulder, in case they ran into anything.

"Because I don't know how to use a gun, I've taken a little kendo, this shovel is on the heavier side and a sword means you don't have to worry about ammunition," she replied, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. Before she wouldn't have had to explain, but now everything she did or said Mike had to find fault with.

They turned the corner at Larch only to find two dead ones. They weren't always fast, but you couldn't let them get their hands on you. She did admit to herself that the thought of being eaten alive by those... _things..._ was horrifying. It was horrifying enough watching it happen to someone else...Thankfully, she'd been able to keep Peanut from having to witness that obscenity. So far.

It was of Peanut that she thought as she moved swiftly forward, with a warning tossed over her shoulder to Mike to make sure that he covered Peanut's eyes. She swung the shovel in a wide arc, catching the both of them together. They fell to the ground. She quickly brought down the flat of the shovel on first one head, then the other. It didn't take a whole lot of force...whatever was causing the re animation also seemed to rapidly decay the flesh, so not much pressure was needed to get the job done.

For the thousandth time since this whole mess began, she blessed her circuit training. This post-apocalyptic wasteland gave new meaning to the term "survival of the fittest."

"Make sure he doesn't look at them," she cautioned as she led the way, shovel at the ready.

"I know, alright? I can take care of my son," Mike snapped back.

It took everything she had not to respond that it was the ONLY thing he could seem to do, and he wasn't even good for that more than half the time, now.

Mike was terrified of dead ones, to the point that he was paralyzed with fear and couldn't manage to put any of them down. She was frightened of them too...but she used that fear to give her the impetus that she needed to dispatch them. The possibility that those disgusting creatures could tear into Peanut or Mike reinforced her determination to take out every one they came across.

It wasn't easy, wasn't anything close to easy. They'd been human before...and some of them had been friends...and family. But whoever and whatever they'd been before, now they were monsters, with every bit of their humanity ripped away. Genevieve, Langston, Simeon...and Mama...her nieces Liane and Zara...her nephews Demetrius, John and Octavian...but she wouldn't think of that right now. Tears enough to cry later. Tears enough to last til the end of days.

But Mike and Peanut were still here. Terry, their friend, was still here, barricaded back at the house they were currently holed up at. They'd left him back there under the pretense of watching over everything, but truth be told, he was as useless as Mike with the dead. He'd be one more body to worry about and protect.

She would've left Mike too, but she needed him to carry Peanut whIle she fought. She hadn't been able to be further away from Peanut than a few feet since this all started. Perhaps it didn't make any sense, but she felt that if he just remained close to her...she could make sure nothing could touch him, hurt him...consume him.

There it was on the corner, Bertram and Crabtree. They had been on the upscale side, but now in the after, they'd fallen victim to the looting that was the law of the land. The front windows were smashed in, debris scattered everywhere. She didn't see the sword sitting on the wooden rack it had rested on, now tipped over and broken apart, no doubt due to feet treading over it.

"Damn it," she muttered.

"What's wrong?" Mike asked, not entirely hiding how nervous he was to be out here. His eyes were wider than usual and she noted the tense set of his shoulders.

"Looks like it's gone," she replied reluctantly, sensing where this was going next.

"You mean you dragged us out here for NOTHING?" Mike lashed out. "You know what's out here and you took us all this way for what? Not a damn THING!" The ire in his voice made Peanut start to cry softly.

"Keep your voice down!" she hissed, suddenly furious at him. "You know noise draws them and you aren't the one who'll be fighting them if they show up!" It was a low blow, but she was fed up. He wasn't supportive, barely helpful and he'd upset Peanut. "Quiet our son down, let me see if there's anything useful in here. Stay close."

His throat worked a little, as if he were swallowing back things he wanted to say to her. She met his eyes squarely. He was the first to look away. He rocked Peanut back and forth softly, murmuring to their son in a soothing voice.

She stepped carefully over the glass and tried to avoid coming down on any large pieces, not wanting to draw any more attention than they already may have. A Persian tapestry lay in a heap nearby. She lifted it up hopefully, but there was nothing underneath but more glass and some broken figurines.

All the merchandise that wasn't made off with lay haphazardly in the maple display cases, which appeared to be the only things in the place not ravaged. A four-poster teakwood bed with jade inlay that held a place of distinction in the center of the store had been divested of its sheets, pillows and blankets. There were deep gouges in the wood, as if someone had decided to vent their frustrations on the immovable object.

She found a charming teddy bear with plush, velvety paws that she passed back to Mike for Peanut. There wasn't much here that would be of use to them as things stood now, but she moved forward, not willing to give up til she'd seen all there was to see.

The door to the backroom was closed. She put one hand on the knob and used the other to raise her shovel. Tentatively, she pushed the door open, eyes scanning the room for dead ones. It seemed clear and she heard no tell-tale snarling. There were a few long tables that lined the walls, but they held nothing that interested her. Disappointment rushed in...until she noticed a wrapped, oblong object on the very back table.

Hardly daring to hope, she approached it with held breath. Pulling the cloth away, she could not suppress a delighted little laugh at what was underneath. Here was the sword, scabbard and all.

She put down the shovel on the table and lifted the sword. She unsheathed the blade, pleased at the sound it made. She tested the edge lightly with her forefinger and nodded with approval at the thin cut that immediately resulted. Her lips closed over it and tasted the blood that was there. This would do nicely.

It was nice and light. She took a few practice swings. Yes, this would be much easier to wield and could be used for quite a while with little to no fatigue on her muscles. The shovel was way more demanding and did not have the blade's maneuverability.

Mike watched her execute the moves she still remembered from kendo, his face unreadable. Peanut was beginning to drowse lightly against his shoulder, chubby hands clutching the new teddy close.

"Guess you think you're Toshiro Mifune now, huh?" It could've passed for a joke if Mike's voice had been at all light.

She raised the blade and laid the flat of it against her shoulder, regarding him silently for a moment.

"Hai," she answered, finally.

 **To Be Continued**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 _ *****I don't own TWD or anything associated with TWD. Don't sue, mmmmkay?*****_

 **Me: So y'all don't like Mike. My apologies for the irritation! If it's any comfort, I don't like him much, either. Thanks so much for all the kind words of encouragement! It really inspires me to keep writing and try my best! This chapter may be a little more irritating in some spots, but we're going somewhere with this, I promise.**

"And this little piggy ran wee wee wee wee all the way home!" Michonne finished the nursery rhyme by releasing Peanut's little toe and then using her fingers to tickle her son's sides, chuckling at his sweet laughter.

She was tucking him into bed at the house they were currently occupying. Luckily the previous inhabitants included a couple of children who must have been on the young side, as there were two child-sized beds and an overabundance of SpongeBob SquarePants paraphernalia. She pulled the blankets up to his shoulders and planted a kiss on his forehead. "Time to go to bed, okay, Peanut?"

He smiled at her. "'Night, Mama." Peanut didn't speak often or very many words yet but she wasn't concerned. She and her brother Simeon had both been on the later side with speech development but once they started talking, their conversation grew by leaps and bounds, per family legend. And Daddy had told her a few times (privately) that they were his two brightest kids.

Not that he hadn't loved or appreciated Langston and Genevieve, who were both intelligent in their own right, but he related better to Simeon and Michonne, the quieter ones who operated as much on intuition as they did their intellect. He understood them better, as Mama had felt more comfortable with Langston and Genevieve.

She swallowed back her grief, knowing that her tears would make Peanut cry. He was what was keeping her on her feet right now, away from the chasm of misery that threatened to pull her down. She could (and would) cry later.

Softly, she stroked the top of his head, wanting to stay with him til he fell asleep. Nowadays it was these moments that provided the only peace she knew. Peanut snuggled against the teddy she had christened Bruno from the curio shop. It had been the right call to grab him, as Peanut carried him around everywhere with a devotion that was touching to observe. The chestnut-brown bear with the red plaid bow around his neck and velvety pads had become Peanut's new best friend.

His eyes began to droop, and soon closed altogether, his rhythmic breathing signaling that he was now asleep. A small sigh escaped her as she reached over and dimmed the lantern that was on the night stand. She hated that she had to follow up something that calmed her down with something that wouldn't...but it had to be done.

She went down the stairs slowly, trying to mentally prepare for the discussion that needed to happen. It had been on her mind for a few days now that things could not continue as they were. Something had to give.

The low volume of the exchange issuing from the kitchen caught her notice. True, everything had to be quieter now out of necessity to prevent drawing the hordes of dead ones that roamed the streets, but she didn't like it. Paranoid or not as the suspicion may be, she had the sinking feeling that she was the topic of conversation.

She resisted the urge to hang back and listen to whatever was being said. Things between she and Mike were strained enough already without adding to it, and she definitely had to try and keep her temper for what was coming next.

"Peanut's down for the night," she offered Mike, marking the shifting of his eyes away from hers, a tip-off that her hunch was probably correct. Turning to look at Terry cemented that idea when she took in his falsely-cheerful smile. The man couldn't lie to save his life.

"Terry, could you give Mike and I a bit? I need to speak with him about a few things." She resented Mike sharply in that moment for making her sound like a scolding mother.

"Sure, Michonne. I was just about to turn in, anyways," Terry replied, his tone almost passing inspection. Almost.

She gave him a small smile in return. "Thanks." Polite games. Well, that was all about to go out the window anyway.

She sat down in Terry's vacated chair, directly across the table from Mike. The half-full glass of wine Terry had been sipping from was within her reach. She picked it up, looked into its depths for a moment, then drained it whole.

"That bad, huh?" Mike questioned, making her heart beat a little faster. It was what he used to ask her when she'd get home from hard days at work, annoyance constricting her brow. He'd usually then disappear into the kitchen and come back out with a glass of wine in hand, giving her a neck and shoulder massage while she poured out whatever the particular frustration of that day had been. It wasn't something she had needed all that often, maybe just once or twice a month, but she had loved that he noticed and that he wanted to help. Maybe all of that wasn't gone. Maybe...

"I hope not," she said earnestly, letting the rein of her emotions slip for a moment. "Mike...we need to find...another place."

"The food here should be good for another week. What do you mean?" Immediately his tone became defensive. Inwardly, she quailed a bit.

"I mean we can't keep living like scavengers, going from place to place until we exhaust everything there, then move on. There's only so much out there and a lot of it has already gone bad. We need to regroup. We need more support. We need-"

" _We_ need? Don't you mean, _you_ need?" Mike's tone shifted from defensive to nasty. "I'm sorry it's so tough playing samurai. Guess you need to take a break."

Every ounce of her self-control came to bear as she spoke her next words. "It _is_ a little rough, if you want to know the truth. I...I'm getting tired, I could use some help with...with killing them. And I want to give us a chance at something resembling a normal life again. I don't want us just surviving...I want us to _live,_ Mike."

"So you mean that I don't help," he sneered. "Is that what you're trying to say?"

"THAT'S the one thing you picked out of what I just said?" she gritted out. All restraint was gone. "This isn't working, Mike! You don't talk to me anymore. You don't touch me anymore. You act like every time you take care of Peanut that I'm asking you to do something difficult when you're his FATHER and I...have...fucking...HAD it! We need to find other people! I don't know what's going to become of us, but we won't survive this way, much less live!" Her fist came down on the table, making the wine glasses rattle and Mike jump a little in his chair.

"Why can't you see this is hard on me, too?" she whispered, her voice breaking a little. "The world ended for everybody, not just you. I...please, Mike...I don't want to do this alone. I don't want to do this...without…" She couldn't finish. Her throat was starting to close with unshed tears.

He put his head in his hands and there was a long silence. Finally, he spoke. "How can you just...the way you kill them...like it's nothing. Like it's okay. Don't you feel anything? Don't you care? It's like you're not even…"

 _Human_. The word didn't come out of his mouth, but it didn't have to. She looked at him, her eyes wide. His own eyes were sad, but also distant. Mike sighed, long and drawn-out. "You keep going, just like some damn machine. Now you're here telling me it's rough, but...it doesn't look all that rough for you from where I'm sitting."

"You...you're punishing me for being strong?" she asked, the disbelief making her voice come out high. "When you said before that you loved my strength...was it only when you could tell yourself that you were stronger?" _Do you really hate me so much just for that?_

But she couldn't make herself ask that question, not when she wasn't sure if she could take the answer.

Again there was a long silence and he wouldn't meet her eyes, staring out one of the windows into the darkness outside. They were sitting only a few feet apart but it may as well have been half a world away.

"It's late. I need to sleep." Mike pushed his chair back from the table abruptly, the scrape of it against the wooden floor startling in the formerly-quiet room.

"Mike-"

He turned away from her, his shoulders slumped forward, as if in pain. "It can wait til tomorrow. You want us to find more people...fine. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

Michonne listened to his footsteps going up the stairs and heard the eventual click of the bedroom door as it opened, then closed. She waited for five, ten, fifteen minutes until she was reasonably sure that the wine he'd drunk earlier had done its work and he'd be fast asleep.

Her hands covered her face as she finally allowed herself to weep.

 **To Be Continued**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 _ *****I don't own TWD or anything associated with TWD. It all belongs to others.*****_

 **Me: Short chapter this time, but we're coming up on some stuff soon. Thanks to all my readers! I love how involved with the characters you are, and it honors me to no end to think my words might entertain you.**

The disgruntled caravan consisting of Michonne, Mike, Peanut and Terry had made progress towards getting out of the city proper. They had stumbled across a car with enough fuel to take them part of the distance, but that kind of travel was not always the best way to proceed with a lot of the roads being so congested. Those poor people had tried to outrun the living dead with no success and were now trapped in eternal gridlock.

Clearing the trapped cars as they made their way provided places to sleep at night, and even though she had to goad him every step of the way, Terry was finally starting to pull a little weight. He had a baseball bat that they had found in the house before they'd left it and with a little coaching from her, he was up to taking down some of the singles on his own.

The sweat that beaded his brow and the way his hands shook let her know to give him a wide berth when he went to attack, but he seemed to at least understand that now, when they were actually traversing this harsh new landscape that he hadn't had much exposure to before, that passivity and entrusting everything to her was no longer an option.

Which was more than she could say for Mike.

Her mind went back to the morning after their conversation that went nowhere. She'd tried to engage him again, but it was like he'd gone limp. He had turned cold eyes to her and said flatly, "I get it. You need other people. So just take us to wherever you're going to go."

She'd never tell him how much each word he spoke pierced her to the heart or how she had cried long into the night, and not just for her departed family. There was some deeper issue going on but she couldn't play leader, warrior AND therapist right now. If Mike currently was a lost cause, she had to hope that Terry wouldn't be.

The time for choosing her words carefully was done. As Mike fed Peanut breakfast, she laid out her plan to Terry. She wanted to make for the mountains outside the city, as they weren't heavily populated to begin with, they contained natural resources and it was a pretty good bet that any other survivors who had made it would be thinking along the same lines. Their height would make it less likely that the dead could overrun them as sometimes seemed to be the case down on level ground.

 _If I can just hold us together til we get to a safe place...If I can keep us alive til then...Maybe I'll get the time I need to find a way to bring him back._ But that was all for later. Right in this moment, she had to deal with who and what was in front of her.

"Thing is, I need you to help me get us there," she told Terry firmly. "We've got a ways to go and we're going to encounter a lot of the dead ones. If they bite us, if they even scratch us...we're done. You can't be scared anymore. At least, not so scared that you won't fight back. You have to remember, they'll eat us if they get the chance. Eat us alive. We can't survive, if you won't fight."

Her words seemed to make an impression on Terry. A thorough scouring of the house for supplies to take on the journey turned up the baseball bat in the garage. Terry hefted it with one hand, took a couple swings. "I used to play with some friends in the park on occasion, so I can swing a bat," he told her, his voice a little sad. He gave her a tentative smile.

She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it lightly. "It's a good place to start. And heads are bigger targets than a baseball."

Mike seemed to retreat into caring for Peanut whIle she and Terry took on the dead and foraged for supplies. He spoke little, almost seeming to take Terry's newfound initiative as some kind of personal betrayal. The going was a little slow, but steady.

On their seventh day out, they ran into a group of fifteen dead ones. So far it was the largest group they'd come this close to and they were all fairly bunched up together. Mike took Peanut and ran in the opposite direction, the sudden movement making Peanut cry a little in distress as she approached the group, sword drawn.

Her initial stroke decapitated three close together. Terry had picked off one that had gotten ahead of the main body, then skirted the group to pick off another lone one that was straggling a little behind, which drew off some of the ones heading towards her. They always appeared to move more quickly once they scented prey.

She had to move faster. Three decisive helicopter strikes took down seven more, and Terry had managed to fell two more with one heavy swing after taking out the straggler. That left two. She made short work of one while Terry handled the last.

Breathing heavily, he started to clean up. They made sure each severed head was stabbed or bludgeoned, extinguishing the last spark of animation left to it. The first couple times she'd had him do this Terry had immediately thrown up. Now he was holding his stomach, even if he did look a little queasy. Progress, she thought to herself, and chuckled a little, allowing herself to hope.

"What's so funny?" Terry asked her as Mike came walking slowly back, clutching Peanut to him tightly. Her son was fussing a bit, but Mike was rocking him back and forth, a sure way to get him to calm down.

She wiped the blade on the shirt of one of the dead ones, first one side, then the other. "I'm starting to think we just might make it."

 **To Be Continued**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 *****TWD and its associated minutiae are not owned by me. Suing me would not make anyone happy.*****

It happened on their eleventh day out. They finally ran into another person.

Michonne eyed the stranger warily, quickly unsheathed her sword and rested it against her shoulder. If there was one thing to be said about having to constantly go up against the dead ones, it was that it was improving her skill with the sword by leaps and bounds. The drills she performed every morning didn't hurt, either.

Terry followed her lead somewhat reluctantly, raising the bat with one arm and laying it across his shoulders. Michonne guessed that his reluctance to seem threatening stemmed from the fact that the stranger before them was a woman.

Mike shot a brief glance at the stranger and tightened his arms around Andre, his face becoming tense when his eyes touched on her weapon.

She looked to be in her late twenties and she herself was carrying an automatic rifle slung over one shoulder. Her gaze took them in, dark grey eyes coolly assessing. She seemed no-nonsense, with reddish brown hair pulled back in a severe ponytail and a slim, athletic form garbed in a grey t-shirt and black jeans. The outfit was rounded out by hiking boots and a backpack that was about half-full dangling from her left hand.

"Been out here long?" she asked finally, looking directly at Michonne. Her voice was steady and pitched low. She herself appeared to be unconcerned, as her rifle remained on her shoulder.

"A little bit," Michonne replied, her own voice working to remain nonchalant. This woman had a gun. If she wanted to-

"My name is Cassie. And yours is?" Her eyes continued to look into Michonne's, and she tossed the question off casually, as if they had just chanced to meet while purchasing coffee at a cafe somewhere.

"Michonne. How long have YOU been out here?" She cursed herself mentally at the defensive note she heard creeping into her voice.

Cassie seemed to be considering something in her head prior to answering the question. It was quiet for about thirty seconds before she spoke.

"I'm out doing a little foraging for supplies. The camp we have nearby is getting new people in every few days, and my brother Finn and I decided to see what's left on these vehicles out here."

"You have a camp?" Terry burst out before Michonne herself could form the question.

Cassie's gaze moved from Michonne to Terry

"Yes," she affirmed, her tone finally becoming guarded. Michonne's heart began to race. This, this was what they'd been looking for!

"We...we've been trying to find other people," she said to Cassie, hating the way her voice shook slightly. "It's been eleven days and you're the first live person we've run into." Her breath hitched a little at the end, repressing a sob. _Please. Please let this be it_.

"It's been...tough. There's a lot of.. a lot of _them_ out there. I-I was...beginning to think…" She had to stop. She lowered her eyes down to her shoes, blinking away tears.

 _Get control of yourself, girl. You've come all this way and you're about to blow it because you're coming off as crazy._

She had to pull it together. _Had_ to. Angrily, she swiped at her eyes and raised her face back up. Terry's hand came to rest on her shoulder, applying gentle pressure. "Michonne?" he asked gently. "You okay?"

She lowered the sword and used her free hand to place over his briefly and squeezed it tightly. "Yeah, I'm okay. Don't worry." She dropped her hand and met Cassie's gaze again. "Sorry for losing it a little there, it's just...you know."

Cassie regarded her, eyes appearing soft for the first time. "Yeah, I do know." Sympathy was evident in each word. She swept her eyes over to Terry and then to Mike and Peanut. "Who's this little guy over here?" she queried, tone turning playful. "He's adorable."

"His name is Andre." Michonne almost jumped at the unexpected sound of Mike's voice. Those were the first words he'd spoken today, and for once he wasn't speaking with the listless tone she'd come to despise so much. She nearly fell to the ground in shock at his next words. "You said that you have a camp. Please. Please let us come with you. I want my son to live."

Cassie walked over to Mike and Andre and placed a hand on Mike's arm. "Of course you can come with us," she answered, the sympathy back in her voice. "You'll have to ride in the bed of the truck, but we can take you all back with us. It's not far, and Finn should be back soon. Now I know we just met and everything, and I'll understand if you say no...but I'd really like to hold this cutie, if you don't mind."

 **To Be Continued**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 _ *****The usual disclaimer. None of TWD or its stuff is mine.*****_

The "camp" turned out to be an old, abandoned farm spread over roughly three acres. It consisted of a two-story main house, three long bunkhouses, a shack, two big barns and what looked to be a few tents set up nearby.

"It was called Larkspur, when it still ran," Cassie explained as she walked beside Michonne, who carried Peanut (and Bruno) in her arms. She had taken him from Mike before Mike could let Cassie hold him. Even if these strangers were offering sanctuary...they were still strangers. And no stranger was touching her child

Michonne only half-listened as Cassie explained about what the farm had been. She was taking it all in. There was a wooden fence surrounding everything about four feet high. _Looks rickety though_ , she fretted. Could it last, if the dead ones came in full force? _Stop it_ , she told herself. _Daddy would say you're borrowing trouble._

The structures all had definitely seen better days, but they had good, strong lines, and there was clear visibility around the fences. If a herd of the dead ones _were_ to show up, you'd see them coming. It also looked like they had sentry stations set up on two sides of the fence.

"You post people to watch?" Michonne asked Cassie, cutting her off mid-sentence.

"Yup!" Finn answered from behind her before his sister could reply. He had been having a discussion with Terry about the video game series Halo before he'd interrupted. He was an exuberant, flame-haired youth of eighteen who shared his sister's grey eyes and knowledge of firearms. "It's my turn tomorrow night. Everybody eighteen and older rotates out for watch. Everyone with good eyes, at least." His tone was cheery, as if he were speaking about a fun activity they all got to participate in.

 _Which_ , Michonne thought a little sourly, _to him it probably is. Bet he thinks he's in one of his damn video games._ She shook her head a little to dismiss that line of thinking. Everyone had their own coping mechanism, and at least his seemed to be working for him. Unlike Mike.

When Michonne had stepped in to take their son from him before he could hand Peanut over to Cassie, it seemed to extinguish the brief spark of life that had manifested only seconds before. He became completely silent. Currently, he walked as if in a trance behind Terry and Finn. His eyes stared straight ahead, but didn't appear to be taking any of their new surroundings in.

"Yes, we keep watch," Cassie affirmed what her brother had just said. "We haven't had too many issues with the biters coming up here, but we do get a few. Doesn't hurt to be safe. Watches are four-hour shifts. They're timed with a couple travel clocks we keep for that purpose. Most watches have been uneventful."

 _Most_? Michonne's inner voice couldn't keep silent. It was on the tip of her tongue to probe further into Cassie's last statement, but Terry spoke before she had a chance. "How are the buildings broken up? Where does everyone sleep?"

"Finn and I are in the main house along with Wallace, June and the Roberts' family. The bunkhouses hold a lot of the people that we've found or who've filtered in since we set up camp here. The shack is Adam and Mei, and the barns we treat as communal areas for meals and meetings, when we need to have them," Cassie explained. "I know I'm throwing a lot of names at you, but these are people you're going to meet."

"There are tents," Terry observed. "Who's in those?"

"Leonard is in one of them. Even though we still have room in the bunkhouses, he'd rather have his own space. Same with Ivan and Petra. Two of them we use for the people on watch. Whoever is on that night uses a tent for sleeping so that when the shift changes, they aren't disturbing everyone else," Cassie clarified.

"You seem pretty well-organized here," Terry said, not able to keep all the hope out of his voice.

"Finn and I lived not too far from here, seemed the best shot we had once everything went to shit. Both our parents died a few years ago in a car crash. Finn's been my responsibility since then. Dad was a big wilderness nut, so we both know how to use a gun and have a decent selection. We've also got ex-military here...that's Wallace. Adam is a physical therapist." Cassie sighed deeply and brought a hand to her forehead and rubbed it with the heel. "It's tough. But...we're trying to make a life out of...all this." Her eyes looked sad, and much older than her years.

Her words resonated sharply. Michonne said quietly, "That's what we want. That's what we were trying to find."

Cassie gave her a small smile. "Then I think you've come to the right place."

 **To Be Continued**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 _ *****I don't own TWD or any of its stuff and thangs. Only the liberties taken are mine.*****_

Michonne relished the feel of the warm afternoon sunshine on her face as she watched Peanut run around with Emily in the pasture. Emily was four years old, just a little older than her son.

It had been three weeks since they'd arrived at the camp. They'd gotten to know its various inhabitants over the course of that time, and though Michonne owned to herself that she definitely liked some of them more than others, it _did_ feel wonderful to be around people in general again. It wasn't like life before and probably never would be...but it was the closest they'd come since everything had changed.

"She's not giving you any trouble, is she, Michonne?" Adam called out as he headed towards the main house, medical bag tucked under his arm.

"Not at all!" she exclaimed laughingly.

She liked Adam and Mei Liong very much. Their only child being so close in age to Peanut had provided the means to initiate friendship, but the better she knew them, the more she liked them. Adam was a kind, sensible man of thirty-five with jet black hair that fell just below his shoulders. Mei, at thirty-six, was waif-pretty and petite but contrary to her looks, a real ball of energy. She'd been a ballet teacher in the before, and led the camp through some general fitness drills three times a day, demanding that every member of the camp that was able attend at least once a day.

To be sure, there were others she liked quite a bit, as well. She had become fond of Cassie and Finn Brennan, recognizing in their dynamic something similar along the lines of the way she felt about protecting Peanut. She somehow intuited that this camp was a testament to Cassie's desire to make a life for Finn that wasn't just survival. The closeness and love that were evident between them were familiar feelings that she trusted, as they were emotions that had defined the whole of her existence.

She also liked Wallace and June Bergstrom, a former Navy lieutenant and military nurse who'd seen active duty together in the Vietnam War _and_ Desert Storm. Then there was Theresa Jimenez, a witty and sharply intelligent woman of forty-five who'd been a bartender, in the before. Clyde Fallon, who'd become fast friends with Terry, had been a short-order cook.

Terry seemed to be adapting well, having no issue serving in the watch rotation or with going on supply runs. His skill with the baseball bat had improved and he was currently receiving instruction from Finn in the use of ranged weapons. In addition to guns, the camp also had a several compound bows and some throwing knives. Finn was proficient with all, but was concentrating on bows with Terry for the time being.

Even Mike had shown improvement, though Michonne wasn't crazy about some of the friends he'd made. Leonard Thibodeaux had been an insurance salesman whose ownership of a .45 had saved him when shit went down, but Michonne suspected he might also be an alcoholic, as periodically she would catch the sour sweat smell from him that she associated with people that drank too much. He was a nice enough guy..but one needed to stay sharp to survive now.

Likewise she also had reservations about Erica Johnson, but for completely different reasons. The curvaceous, doe-eyed former banker liked to flirt with Mike quite a bit, and though Mike didn't seem to return the attention, Michonne suspected that Erica thought it was okay to play the coquette because things between she and Mike were still dismal. Whatever the reason was, she didn't like it.

Though he was more talkative and alive than he'd been since everything went down...there remained a coldness between them. He'd served on watch with her but had woken her up in the wee hours of the morning to take care of the two dead ones who'd approached the fence. She had resented fiercely his expectation that she take care of matters while barely deigning to accord her the minimum amount of respect.

But...she still loved him. Her jealousy over Erica and the way she'd defended him to Cassie when Cassie had asked her why Mike was unable to go out on supply runs for the camp reminded her that she couldn't let go of the hope that with enough time, things between them would get better.

"He won't kill them at all?" Cassie had asked her, incredulous when Michonne had explained Mike's weakness. "How does he expect to survive? They outnumber us. You don't have to LIKE it, you just have to DO it."

"I know," Michonne had replied wearily. Perhaps it had been the tone of her voice or the look in her eyes, but Cassie had not pressed the issue any further. There were enough duties around the camp that required attention that weren't supply runs or combat, and Mike was willing enough to perform them. Michonne was an exceptional fighter. Terry was shaping up to be pretty good, too. Under Finn's tutelage, he might even end up great.

If Mike was the price of keeping them, then so be it.

Michonne heard the clang of the bell for lunch. "Come here, Peanut! C'mon, Emily!" she called. "Let's go eat!"

 **To Be Continued**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 _ *****I don't own TWD or profit from it in any way.*****_

 **Me: I've been focusing on my holiday stories and this one's been shamefully neglected. It is my flagship title, and though it's going to be a long journey, I mean to see it through to its end.**

"Cassie. they haven't come back yet," Finn said worriedly, loping up to his sister. It was morning and he'd just finished up his watch on the east sentry post. Michonne had come from her shift on the west and had run into them on her way to get some breakfast.

"They could still show up, Finn," Cassie replied, her voice calm. "We've had this happen before. People go on runs and go out farther than they planned, or run into obstacles and it adds on time. Ivan and Petra have only been gone two days. And they _are_ on foot."

"I know, Cass, but they're newer to the weapons training. And you know she's been working up to fighting. What if they got trapped somewhere? What if they need our help? It's just the two of them!"

"You and I go out on our own all the time."

"Yeah, but Ivan and Petra aren't you and me," Finn stated firmly. "And they said it was gonna be quick. I'm gonna go check on them. They were headed towards town and the stores there."

"Finn, you just finished up a shift. You should get some rest," Cassie rebuked.

He shook his head vigorously. "Don't need it. And I can't rest til I know if they're alright. They're _friends_ , Cass. I have to know."

Cassie sighed heavily. "Nothing I say is going to change your mind, is it?" It was barely a question.

"Not really. You could come with me, though. I could use your help, big sis." He fixed her with wide, appealing eyes, and his voice was persuasive.

"Count me in, too," Michonne cut in, unable to keep out of it anymore.

"Mich, you just came off watch," Finn protested.

"Which is different from you how?" she countered. "What, is my help not good enough?"

Finn's face turned almost as red as his hair. "You _know_ I think you're awesome, Mich. You kick some serious ass with that sword. But Cass and I can do this. Two people should be able to handle this."

"So think how much easier three could handle it," she reasoned. "I get that you need to find your friends, so let me help you the way you helped us. If you run into anything really bad, you're gonna have to fight. You just commented on my fighting prowess. Let me help."

"Okay, Mich. Thanks!" Finn gave her a huge grin. "We'll be the deadliest fighting unit ever."

"Eat first, Finn," Cassie commanded. "And let Michonne grab something to eat, too. I'm sure she needs to check in with Mike and Andre before she goes."

"Roger that, captain!" Finn gave her a mock salute. "So we'll go handle our business and then meet back here. Thirty minutes?"

"Make it forty," Michonne amended. "See you soon."

After bolting down her breakfast, Michonne went to find Mike and explained what the plan was.

"Thanks for telling me, I guess," he shrugged. "Mei has Andre and Emily right now. They're at the morning drill. Maybe you'd like to tell our son that you're needlessly risking his mother's life for no good reason before you go?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Or I can explain to him what helping friends sometimes entails...or the significance of repaying debts. Or show him what _really_ pulling your weight looks like. That way he's got at least _one_ parent he can look up to."

Without giving him a chance to respond, she turned on her heel and went outside to find Peanut.

She smiled as she approached the lines of people following along with Mei. Right up at the front were her son and Emily, mimicking the grown-ups movements as best they could. Bruno wasn't far, watching the drills from a sitting position in the grass nearby. She motioned Peanut over to her and he came running.

"Mama!" he greeted her breathlessly as she swept him up in a fierce hug.

"'Morning, Peanut! I'm gonna be gone for a little bit. Cassie and Finn need my help. I'll be back soon, so I want you and Bruno to be good for Daddy and Mei while I'm gone. Can you do that for me?"

He frowned a little. "Mama go 'way?"

His words wrenched at her heart. "Just for a little bit, Peanut. I have to help. I promise I won't be gone too long. Do you understand?"

Slowly he nodded, his lower lip stuck out slightly.

She kissed him soundly on the cheek. "Remember what I said. You and Bruno be good." She set him gently back on the ground.

He ran to Bruno and picked him up, then ran back over to Michonne. He held out the teddy to her. "Kiss Bruno, Mama," he said stubbornly.

She laughed. "Of _course_ I'll give Bruno a kiss!" She placed a quick peck on the head of the teddy. "Take care of Peanut for me," she instructed the stuffed bear solemnly. "And Peanut, you watch over Bruno. Good-bye! I'll see you soon!" She waved at Mei and Emily, who both waved back.

She headed back to the meeting spot to find Cassie and Finn waiting with Terry. Cassie had her rifle, and Finn and Terry both carried compound bows. Terry gave her a small smile.

"When he found out what we were up to, he insisted on coming along," Finn said, grinning at his friend. "Should be even easier with four instead of three!"

Cassie patted the pack she had strapped to her back. "I've got water and some snacks in here, so we should be good. We'll take the truck for speed. Finn's got our route planned out already. We should be back in a few hours."

"Let's do it!" Terry cheered. "We'll find 'em...and bring them back home!"

 **To Be Continued**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

 *****Please forgive me, this has been on a terribly long hiatus. A combination of life and a definite disillusionment with how TWD has progressed are mostly to blame. All the usual disclaimers. *****

"No sign of them at the grocery store," Cassie advised, shaking her head as she came striding up to the front of the pharmacy. "But I _did_ come across some supplies while I was looking." She patted her backpack gently. "I don't see them with any of you, so I'm guessing your searches didn't turn up anything, either."

Finn's brow was furrowed with anxiety. "No. I didn't see any sign of them at the pharmacy. Just a few biters I ended up clearing out."

Michonne shook her head regretfully. "I couldn't see that _anyone's_ been at the Indian restaurant recently. There weren't even any dead ones...and their stores are pretty well picked over. If they went in there, they would've turned back around pretty fast."

Terry's face showed nothing but disappointment. "No sign of them at the burger place, either. Though I _did_ grab some of the mustard and ketchup there."

Cassie considered Finn's tense posture and set face and let out a long sigh. "We've been at this now for six hours, little brother. We haven't come across anything but biters and a few measly supplies. You and Michonne are tired, and we haven't seen any sign of Ivan or Petra. Terry has watch tonight. I think we should head back."

A mulish look crept over Finn's face. "We still have some daylight left, Cass. There are a few more places close by that we can check before we go back. If we haven't seen any sign of them so far then it means they must be a little further out," Finn finished, voice firm. "I don't want to give up yet."

"It's not just what you want that matters," Cassie retorted, her own voice as firm as her brother's. "Think about Michonne and Terry, too. We're putting them at risk as well as ourselves the longer we stay out. Michonne has a son to get back to."

"Cass, it's okay," Michonne protested softly. "I've got a little more left in me, especially if we have a quick snack." Part of her was in total agreement with Cassie, and the mention of Peanut sent a stab of guilt through her...but observing Finn's obvious worry over his friends made her want to try a bit more before calling it quits.

Terry nodded. "Yeah, I'm good, too. I think we can go a little further."

Cassie shot them a look that was half-exasperated, half-amused. "Since I'm clearly in the minority here, I guess we're going a little further."

Finn's face flushed a bright red that almost matched his hair. "Michonne, Terry...thanks so much, you guys. And Cass...I don't wanna be an asshole. Really, I don't. But if they're trapped and in need of our help somewhere...I don't want to just leave them, you know?"

Cassie ruffled his hair affectionately and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. "I know, little bro, I know! But don't forget we have more than Ivan and Petra to worry about."

"We'll go a little further and if we don't find them...we'll head home." Finn said this last reluctantly, but laid his head on his sister's shoulder submissively, so that she knew he meant what he'd said.

Michonne chuckled, glad that everything was settled. She and Terry exchanged relieved grins. "Okay. Now that we've gotten that squared away...how about that snack?"

/

After a brief break so that everyone could hydrate and eat a little something, they headed to the next shopping complex. It had a couple fast food places, a Home Depot, a clothing store and a few random shops lined up in a strip mall. Cassie and Finn had conferred and decided this was the most likely spot to search before calling it a day.

"For this, I think we should stick together," Cassie said, no room for argument in her tone as they pulled the truck up to a parking space near the Home Depot. "We haven't really been over this section of town and I have no idea what we might be running into."

"Together, then," Michonne assented, securing the sword's scabbard to her back as they got out of the truck. She carried the blade laid across her shoulder. They would need to proceed with caution, given that this was unknown territory. Any of these places might be overrun.

"Whatever you say, big sis," Finn smiled widely at his sister.

They formed a tight unit as they proceeded into the Home Depot, weapons at the ready. Cassie and Terry were at the front, Michonne and Finn followed behind.

The registers at the front were deserted, some knocked over or busted wide open, which made Michonne scratch her head internally. What use could anyone have for cash now?

Though they couldn't see anyone in their immediate line of sight, there was a distant sound of the telltale snarls and growling one associated with the dead ones...as well as their shuffling, dragging footsteps.

"Let's proceed quietly," Cassie hissed over her shoulder. She shouldered the rifle and drew out two of the throwing knives, putting one in each hand. Terry hefted his compound bow into a firing position and the party advanced slowly on light feet, stepping over the haphazard items strewn across the floor.

Michonne made note of the fact that a lot of the shelves had empty spaces. Perhaps the camp hadn't been out this way, but clearly someone had. All evidence pointed to this store having been well-looted. A random thought crossed her mind. _Who do we have more to fear from, the dead ones...or whoever has proven strong enough to survive up to now?_

The thought made her profoundly uncomfortable. She pushed it away, shaking her head to clear the disturbance she felt.

"Michonne, you okay?" Finn whispered, concerned. He had noticed her sudden preoccupation and his grey eyes bored into hers, betraying worry...and some poorly concealed fright.

Her heart went out to him. Finn, at eighteen years of age, might technically be considered an adult, and he certainly looked like one, exceeding both she and his sister by half a foot in height, but in a lot of ways he was still only a kid. He might be stubborn and carried along by courage...but courage was what you had in the face of fear. Doing what you weren't scared of in the first place wasn't brave. You could only have courage when you made yourself do what you considered to be right...even when up against some horribly shitty odds.

She put her arm around his shoulders and squeezed. "I'm okay," she whispered back. "Had a weird thought. It's gone, now."

He slung an arm around her and gave her a side hug, made somewhat awkward by the scabbard strapped to her back. "You sure?" he queried, voice low.

"Yeah, I'm sure," she answered, voice just as low. "Don't worry! Let's catch up, we're falling behind." She gave him a reassuring smile and one last squeeze before taking back her arm.

He smiled back at her sheepishly, then quickened his pace to match hers so they could catch up with Cassie and Terry.

They were coming to the end of the aisle that they'd been travelling down and the snarling had grown louder as they approached the end. They all exchanged glances and lifted their weapons to the ready. The snarling was coming from their right, but Cassie motioned Terry to check the left as they exited the aisle. You couldn't be too careful.

As they emerged, they saw where the snarling was coming from. A shelf had been knocked over sideways near the back wall. Barricaded behind it and some barbecue grills cowered an olive-skinned, purple-haired girl whose brown eyes were round with fright. Six dead ones surrounded the shelf, snarling and trying to claw at the girl, who had her back pressed against the wall and her legs drawn up as she jabbed a butcher knife wildly at the questing hands that tried to reach her.

She caught sight of them. "Finn!" she cried out.

"Petra!" Finn exclaimed, bringing his bow up and picking off one of the six clawing at the shelf. Terry followed suit, bringing the one closest to them neatly down with his own bow. One of Cassie's throwing knives found its target...though the other missed by a few inches.

Three accounted for, three to go. Finn had the bow firing again and picked off two more. Cassie hurled another throwing knife, the blade embedding itself with a pronounced thunk in the last biter's skull.

They moved forward carefully, eyes sweeping around them to make sure there weren't more coming. Everything looked clear.

"Ivan! Ivan!" Petra wept as they approached the downed biters. Michonne started impaling each of their heads one by one, making sure they were well and truly gone. When she came to the last one Petra started to scream, causing Michonne to pause. What was wrong with the girl?

"Goddammit," came Finn's voice from behind her, defeated and miserable. "It's Ivan. I know that fucking Dead Kennedys shirt...it's Ivan."

Michonne turned the corpse over on its back and saw that Finn was right. She recognized the boy's handsome, aquiline features, now twisted into one of the gruesome, lifeless visages of the dead ones.

"You can't, you _can't_!" Petra sobbed despairingly.

Ivan's eyes started to open, their former ice blue now dull and filmed over. They held no vestige of their former humanity.

Michonne hadn't been closely acquainted with the boy but had found him pleasant the few times that their paths had crossed. A vivid memory came to her of Ivan spinning the younger children around in the pasture in a game of Airplane, laughing at their cries of delight and not stopping until every child who wanted a turn had been spun around, despite having just come from reinforcing the fences.

Peanut had been one of those children. Michonne hadn't wanted to let him, reluctant because she didn't know Ivan that well and was scared at the thought of her precious son being injured...but she noted that Mei had let Emily be spun around...and seeing the kindness in Ivan's eyes had made her relent.

There was none of that kindness in his eyes now. His left arm twitched and his mouth began to open in a snarl.

Michonne glanced at Petra for only a second, praying the girl saw the regret in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Ignoring Petra frantic pleas, she brought her sword down swiftly and surely, cleaving Ivan's skull apart.

 **To Be Continued**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Cassie and Terry moved the barbecue grills aside and gently lead out a weeping Petra. They supported her from each side. She wouldn't look at Michonne.

"Petra?" Finn asked the girl gently. She broke away from Terry and Cassie and threw herself at Finn, her sobs muffled against his shoulder. His arms went around her immediately and he stroked her hair softly as he rocked her back and forth, like one would do with a small child.

For a few minutes the only sound was Petra's weeping.

Cassie shifted uncomfortably. Her eyes met Michonne's. _We need to get out of here_ , they said.

Michonne didn't disagree. She felt miserable and tired...and the selfish part of her wanted to put some distance between she and Petra. She understood why the girl would feel the way she obviously did...but there'd been no choice. Once they became the dead ones, they couldn't be allowed to survive.

She hoped that Petra would come to see it that way. In time.

"Finn," Cassie said, her voice hesitant, "we've got to get going. It's going to be dark soon."

His brow furrowed. He knew that Cassie was right, but Ivan and Petra were his friends and he felt responsible. He had trained them both in the use of weapons. He had had concerns about the two of them going out on a run by themselves...but they'd both been insistent. Particularly Ivan. Ivan said the best training would involve actually going up against the biters. If Petra had seemed slightly more reluctant than her boyfriend, it wouldn't keep her from going with him. She had wanted to be able to pull her weight in the camp. That's what she'd confided to Finn.

And look where it had all ended up.

"Petra," Finn ventured hesitantly, hating himself a little bit, "Cass is...she's right...we should go."

Petra didn't respond, she just clung to him tighter and wouldn't speak or raise her head from his shoulder.

" _Please_ , Petra," Finn implored. "I know that it's...it's shitty, what happened. But we can't-well, we can't do anything more for Ivan, now. And it's getting late. We...we really should go." With one last stroke of her hair, he took hold of her shoulders gently and pushed her away from him, tilting her chin up to raise her eyes to his. "I'm sorry, Petra...I'm so damn sorry. But...we gotta go."

She sniffled, but nodded slowly. "O-Okay. I guess you're r-right," she replied shakily. "B-but…" She broke away from Finn and walked slowly back to the pile of biters.

"Petra?" Cassie questioned, the concern in her voice at odds with the sharp look in her eyes.

"I need to get his weapon. And-and something else," Petra answered.

Cassie's expression became uneasy. "I don't think-" Michonne placed a hand on Cassie's shoulder and shook her head.

"They're all taken care of," she told Cassie in a low voice. "Trust me. Let the girl do what she needs to do."

Petra approached Ivan's corpse slowly, with measured steps. She knelt down beside him, flinching at the ruin Ivan's face had become. Between the decay of reanimation and the devastation caused by Michonne's blade, there was little left of the man she had loved.

With a hitching breath, she removed the hunting knife and its holster clipped into the pocket of his jeans. Around his neck hung a gold crucifix. Ivan hadn't been religious, not even a little bit. To his family, he was an aberration, with his atheism and his punk rock ethos. But he wore the crucifix as a memento of the grandmother who had raised him...and whom he had loved more than his own parents. He never took it off.

Petra didn't want to leave it here. Not in this tomb. As it had been Ivan's way to keep his grandmother with him...now it would be her way of keeping Ivan with her. She unclasped it from his neck and put it around her own, tears starting back up as she fumbled with it. It finally caught.

Her hand grasped the crucifix as she bent forward and placed a lingering kiss on his blood-stained cheek, her eyes closed tightly against focusing on what he now looked like.

Slowly she stood up and walked back to where they all stood waiting. She hung her head, tears dripping down her chin.

"Let's go home," she whispered. "Finn...get me out of here."

Back at the truck, seating was awkward. Michonne knew Petra wouldn't want to sit next to her and truth be told, she had no desire to be in close proximity to the girl, either. Guilt was still riding her hard. She was relieved when Cassie suggested that Petra sit up front, squeezed between she and Finn.

But not before an inspection of Petra's person. Finn had objected when he realized what Cassie was asking the girl to do.

"Cass...come on," he protested. "Look at her!"

"I know-and Petra, I _am_ sorry. But we have to make sure you aren't scratched or bitten. Please understand. _Please_. We're going back to the camp. I-I have to be sure," Cassie explained, her face desperately unhappy.

The girl submitted to the inspection with no word of complaint. Now that they'd made it out of the building, she seemed almost catatonic.

Michonne found the whole process distasteful, given Petra's delicate state...but necessary. Cassie was, as usual, correct. They were headed back to the camp. Sensitivity was all well and good...but they had to be careful. Bringing back someone infected wasn't...Well, it wasn't an option.

Peanut was back at the camp. Emily was back at the camp. It wasn't an option.

Michonne and Terry were being somewhat jostled in the bed of the truck...but she barely noticed it.

She knew killing Ivan had been something that there had been no choice about...but that didn't make her feel any less awful about it.

He and Petra had been trying to gather supplies, trying to do the right thing. They'd wanted to become able fighters, better equipped to serve the needs of the camp. But now Ivan was dead and Petra...who knew how the girl would fare, with her boy now gone? Wasn't that exactly one of the things Michonne had feared, losing Mike?

And truth be told, Mike wasn't worth a damn, these days. He certainly wasn't in the same league as Ivan for either kindness...or courage. But she'd defended him and protected him. She'd discouraged Cassie from pushing him into supply runs. She'd been covering for him on the watches.

Michonne buried her face in her hands, exhaustion overtaking her. She _knew_ what her guilt was about, at least in part. And it was hard to face up to it. She'd killed Ivan, and that was horrible enough on its own. _But_ she'd also killed someone who'd been making the effort to try and contribute. Ivan was only slightly older than Finn, barely an adult. He had known, however, that the only fair thing to do in this world was pull your own weight. That's what he'd been trying to do. He had died in the attempt.

Death was a very real possibility, more than it ever had been before. You risked your life just trying to survive. Cassie loved Finn as much as she herself loved Peanut...but Finn was not spared risk. No other capable man or woman was...except Mike. The shame she felt was more than she could bear. Tears dripped out of the spaces between her fingers.

Terry's hand wrapped around her shoulder. "It's not your fault," he whispered into her ear in order to be heard over the din of the noisy truck. He squeezed her shoulder. Michonne wrapped her arm around his waist and squeezed back, realizing how grateful she was for Terry and the fact that _he_ was trying...and succeeding. But it further brought the point home.

Terry had been terrified...but he'd pushed past the fear and gotten over it to do what he needed to do. How, in good conscience, could she allow everyone else to continue risk themselves...but not Mike?

It couldn't go on this way. She hated the circumstances that had opened her eyes...but now that they _were_ open, she couldn't close them again.

On some level, she had already known how unfair it all was.

They were almost back to the camp. Once they were, a reckoning would be had.

Mike would learn to pull his weight. Or she herself would make him leave.

 **To Be Continued**


End file.
